


Slice of Life-Pie

by See_Kay_Write



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Future Fic, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-12
Updated: 2015-09-09
Packaged: 2018-04-14 10:23:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 838
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4560984
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/See_Kay_Write/pseuds/See_Kay_Write
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Years after the events of Season 5 are just a strange memory, Derek and Stiles have moved in.</p><p>(Slice of life drabbles of various lengths, tags and characters updated as needed)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Cooking

"Stiles, what are you doing?"

He turned slowly from the stove, spatula in one hand, faded 'kiss the cook' apron over his old baggy jeans and ragged Batman t-shirt. His hair was messed up and there was an ink line on the side of his head. Ah, one of those days.

"...cooking?" Stiles asked more than stated, looking down at the pan and back up, "What are you doing?"

Derek stalked the rest of the way into the kitchen and kissed his cheek, "I distinctly remember something someone told me, once upon a time, about a certain someone being an absolute menace in the kitchen." There was a distinct lack of disaster, however, and the smell coming out of the pan was tempting...

Stiles leveled the spatula at Derek, "That someone was a lying liar who lies, and I guess a different certain someone does not want to enjoy any homemade pan fried hashbrown patties."

Derek made a move that in no way resembled his wolf perking up at an interesting scent. Or, once, embarrassingly, 'good boy' from a passing half blind little old lady that couldn't tell he wasn't a dog...)

"Way better for you than McDonald's," Stiles singsonged, not even pretending he hadn't seen Derek's expression, "And more importantly, available at 7:30 at night."

"I have no idea who called you a menace in the kitchen, they were clearly terribly mistaken," Derek corrected quickly.

Stiles slide the hashbrowns from the pan to the plate waiting with the paper towel.

"You're late," he noted.

"You have pen on your face," Derek returned.

Stiles made a face and scrubbed at his cheek, no where close to the actual mark.

"Had to wait for my Tuesday regular to stop drooling over the new books," Derek licked his thumb and scrubbed at the spot, ignoring Stiles's attempts to bat his hands away.

"My characters rambled for three pages about brownies," Stiles complained, "I had to resort to pen and paper to try to find the actual plot in all that."

Derek laughed, then paused. "Wait, are we just eating hashbrowns?"

"You have a better idea for dinner?"

"Nope."

"Then yes."


	2. Mahjong Madness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles really, really likes to procrastinate. Derek wants his computer back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Possibly inspired vaguely by real life (but to be fair so was the hashbrown thing)

“Stiles.”

“Mm?” He didn’t look up at all, just matched two constellation tiles (the big dipper, possibly the little dipper, he wasn’t sure how the game differentiated then) and hunted for the next match.

“You’ve been playing that for three hours.”

“Mm.” Two blue stars first, two gold stars next, two two-star tiles after that, he was on a roll. A star filled roll. Wait, three hours? 

“That’s my computer.”

“Mm-hm,” he agreed. “Your percent of games won is below 90. That is unacceptable.” Two bulls-eye, two spirals, two blue tiles, two purple earths.

“My…” Derek sat next to him.

“This game will get you back to 95.” Six tiles left. He’d have to get the two diamonds first, to get at the fancy-h tile underneath, but once that was free- “Got it!” He hit new game instead of choose puzzle. Whoops, well, can’t wreck a winning streak…

“Remember how you were all ‘Derek, don’t let me procrastinate this week, Derek I mean it I have so much to get done’ Any of that sounding- wolf mask? Really? Out of all the ones you could pick from?” Derek asked. His eyebrows were amused, Stiles noted as he glanced up.

“It seemed appropriate- what the… where did all these numbers come from?” he muttered, turning his attention back to the game.

“I’m not getting my computer back any time soon, am I?” Derek shook his head and stood, “Just for that I’m stealing your laptop until you decide you’re close enough to your deadline to actually start.”

“Don’t mess with my high score!” Stiles called after him. “How did I even turn those options _on_ …”


	3. Pastry Blender

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Derek likes baking; Stiles likes watching.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Scone mix is hard to, you know, actually mix, once it gets sticky. And here I thought I had reasonable upper body strength.

"You go with that pastry blender."

Stiles leaned in the doorway to the kitchen, watching Derek go at the bowl in front of him. Between the jeans, the rolled up shirt sleeves and neat apron, oh yeah, Stiles could stand here all day. 

Derek glanced up, even though he had to have heard Stiles come over several minutes ago, "If you're going to mock me, no scones for you."

"Mock? What?" Stiles threw his hands up in mock horror and then waved them in a very negative fashion, "No mocking here, only genuine appreciation for your forearms at work."

"Uh huh," Derek drawled, fighting a smirk, "I'm not even going to pretend to understand you. Also I'm giving all these scones to Scott now." He did flex a little more than necessary as he worked the butter into the mix.

"I'm only sad you can't knead scone dough." Stiles sounded so regretful Derek did smirk.

"I'll make you some bread later."

"You. Bedroom. Now."

"Scones?" Derek eyebrowed the bowl in front of him pointedly. 

"Scones first. Then bedroom. Then bread. Probably bedroom again," Stiles ordered sounding strained, "Chop chop."

Derek laughed outright, and proceeded to take his sweet time stirring in the milk, the tease.

**Author's Note:**

> I just want happy!Stiles, and more-than-just-an-initials-reference!Derek today. Really all I ask.


End file.
